I Dare You, Heart
by Ethereal Sphere
Summary: - this phrase should probably be at the top list of things to never, ever, direct at your cardiac organ. They are, after all, known for being quite devious. And a heart loves a good challenge. HP/TR HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

I Dare You, Heart

Emerald eyes observed the room from the far wall obscured in shadows with narrowed eyes. Slytherin had won the game against Gryffindor today, which had practically ensured them the House Cup, as well as the Quidditch cup, of course. And now everybody in Slytherin was celebrating here in the Common room.

Good god.

He thought Gryffindor parties, back in his time, had been epic. This... this was something else. The Slytherins must have some kind of an unspoken rule (or a magically binding contract, knowing Slytherins), that what happens at these parties stays there, because no self-respecting Slytherin would let anybody get this much blackmail on themselves.

All the songs of the most popular bands of the wizarding world where booming over the room. There was alcohol everywhere. They were practically swimming in it-... was that a _Jacuzzi_ there, filled with whiskey? Well, anyway, alcohol was everywhere and so was what seemed to be some kind of small potions exchanging hands and being shot down. What really surprised the green-eyed boy, however, were the cigars that some of the purebloods were smoking. He had heard about the wizarding world's own tobacco industry, though he hadn't seen anybody smoking one before.

Everybody from fourth year up was present. At least, those that hadn't already slinked away to their rooms with a lover in tow or those that hadn't yet passed out somewhere. They were all gathered in groups of various shapes and sizes, doing Merlin knows what.

And there, in his usual seat in front of the fireplace, was _him_. Green eyes narrowed further. Tom Marvolo Riddle. The Head Boy, Heir and King of Slytherin, Prodigy of the Century, Heartthrob of the girls and even quite a few boys, Model student, and an Aspiring Dark Lord a.k.a. Lord Voldemort. He was sipping from his wine glass while _reading a book_ in the middle of all this. Surrounding him were his followers, or at least half of them. The other half was probably showing some girl around their dorm already, aside from Nott who was with one of the side groups doing… something disturbing with a plant. They were all definitely drunk and Lestrange would probably hit the lights in a few moments, considering the way he was swaying in his seat. But not Riddle. No, Riddle was probably the only other person in this room, besides Harry, who was substantially sober.

Harry took a gulp of his own butterbeer at that thought, and continued observing the wild Slytherins in their natural habitat. It was the beginning of April, but the Common room was uncommonly (he snorted at the choice of wording) warm right now. Probably because of all the people here making the space heat up. Glancing around in the room he was sure that the space wasn't the only thing these girls were heating up. School uniforms had definitely not been this short and revealing a few hours ago and, averting his eyes quickly, he didn't think some of the couples were still in minor second base anymore.

Next to Riddle was Malfoy with a lap full of Walburga Black, who was switching between sucking on Malfoy's neck and tongue. Harry suppressed a smirk. He couldn't wait to see both of their faces tomorrow, should they remember it. If not, he could definitely work something up to, subtly, remind them.

Subconsciously, his eyes slid back to Riddle again. He wouldn't have believed that he would let something like this happen in his presence, but as it is, he didn't seem to pay too much attention to the on goings in the Common room tonight. Despite the total apocalypse taking place, everybody still somehow managed to avoid stepping into Riddles personal bubble that had quite a wide radius. This didn't surprise Harry. Considering all that he's heard and seen, they were smart to stay away from Riddle. Even though he was a snake, he would rip anybody that overstepped their boundaries apart like a vicious lion.

Almost against his will, his eyes ripped themselves away from Riddle, to one of the corners of the room. There, in the low light, he saw two girls heatedly whispering and throwing glances towards the subject of his earlier observation. He was about to dismiss them and go back to (disdainfully) staring at Riddle, when one of the girls straightened her back and started heading towards the Dark-Lord-in-the-making on unsteady legs and swaying hips. He recognized her as Melisandre Carrow. And the one who had stayed in the corner, with a wicked smirk on her lips, was Dorothy Parkinson. Oh boy. He didn't know if he should close his eyes or just go ahead and watch the catastrophe about to take place.

* * *

With a half resigned, half gleeful sigh he turned to the scene about to play off in front of him. Oh, this should be good. There is some popcorn on the table next to him. Better take the whole bowl.

Carrow faltered and seemed to have lost some of her alcohol induced courage when she reached the edge of Riddles personal bubble, but shook her head determinedly and took the few remaining steps forward, to reach his armchair. When her presence went completely unacknowledged by him for about half a minute she decided to make a move and clear her throat to get his attention. Harry was sure he was the only one to see Riddle's eye twitch a little at that and took another mouthful of popcorn.

Carrow's face, which was already a bit blotchy from drinking, got even redder (whether from anger of embarrassment, Harry didn't know) with Riddles continual ignoring. She seemed to take in a deep breath and stuck one of her hips out, leaning a hand against it.

"Hey, Tom!" Harry was sure she intended it to come out sultry and flirtatious, but the alcohol in her had other plans so, instead, she looked like she might throw up at any second. Harry almost choked on his butterbeer.

"I'm hearing _alof'f_ rumours con-concerning how you feel about me t'night, so I'm here to make things clear. _Yes_ , I will marry you in France the day after graduation and sure, I'll let you name two of our chil- _children_. Now, le's go make love."

Harry considered closing his eyes again after hearing that, but it was like watching a horror movie, knowing there will be a jump scare any second. He didn't want to look but he couldn't tear his eyes away. He couldn't even risk reaching for his popcorn at that moment, worrying he might miss something or ruin the moment. That poor girl. You will be remembered. He doubted he could ever wipe this scene from his memories, even if he tried.

From the corner of his eyes he saw Parkinson approaching Riddle from the back, but holding her distance for now.

Tom Riddle finally raised his gaze then, and pierced it right though the girl standing in front of him, flesh, bone, soul and all. He put his wine glass on the side table next to his chair and rose to stand in front of the girl, who now looked like a deer caught in the headlights. In Harry's perspective, she should've looked more like a baby zebra in the jaws of a crocodile. Blame the alcohol, he guessed, shrugging his shoulders.

Riddle then leaned towards Carrow and started to softly whisper into her ear. If Harry hadn't known better, and hadn't seen Carrow's face, which was paling with every second, he might have thought he was whispering sweet promises of eternal love to her. But as it is, he was probably breathing devastating, crushing, and terrifying words into her head that will stay there for years, if not a lifetime, and will ensure she never looks in his direction again.

At the same time Parkinson swiftly pulled something out of her pocket and slipped it into Riddle's unfinished wine, where it dissolved in seconds. Well. This was tenser and more dramatic than a good telenovela. The popcorn bowl was empty. Were those chips over there? Yes.

Riddle suddenly straightened and sat back down onto his chair and resumed reading, as if nothing had just happened. Carrow stood at the same spot for a couple of seconds more, before she seemed to remember how to function and then she was gone, up the stairs in a flash, tears trailing down her face. Harry was quite impressed she hadn't fallen face first into the Jacuzzi, on her mad dash to the stairs, considering her earlier difficulties with walking.

Parkinson had also moved away by then and blended into the nearby crowd. She was still in Harry's line of sight, however, and kept a firm gaze on Riddle and his drink.

After a while Riddle reached for the wine glass again and brought it slowly to his lips. He paused though, just before taking a sip, and looked down at the red liquid. Harry was sure that it wasn't anything poisonous in there, considering it was Parkinson who had smuggled it in there, and looking at her expression now, which was glued to Riddle at that moment, he was quite sure what effect she expected it to have on Riddle.

Finally, Riddle took a long gulp of his wine and suddenly…nothing happened. He set the glass down again and turned a page. Harry was on the edge of his metaphorical seat right then and Parkinson was basically vibrating where she stood. A minute went by – nothing, three – Riddle took another sip, five – nada. After fifteen minutes, Harry decided that he should reconsider his faith in Parkinson, because that girl was clearly off her game.

Harry was just about to sullenly head to his bed when he noticed Riddle rubbing his eyes and furrowing his brows. After a while, it became clear that he wasn't reading anymore, his already pale complex turning a shade paler as a thin coat of perspiration started to form on his brow. He tried to rise from the seat, but started to sway on his feet instantly. Parkinson was there in a moment, wiggling her way under his arm for mock support as she started whispering something, intending to be calming and soothing no doubt, to him.

At the beginning, Harry was content to just smile and wave at them from his corner, for he was certain that Riddle had this coming to him for being such an insufferable arse to him for the whole year he had spent at Hogwarts of this time so far, and becoming the monster from his nightmares in the future. But, as he looked at Riddle's helpless form being dragged towards the stairs by that pug faced Parkinson, he just couldn't suppress the guilt that was beginning to gnaw at him. And a few other emotions, that had no right to be there, surged when he watched as that wench dragged her fingers over his jaw and brushed her full lips across the shell of his ear.

Okay, show's over.

They were already halfway up the stairs when he got to them. Riddle was getting worse by the minute and now he was having trouble standing up. Parkinson was half dragging half carrying him, but it seemed she had reached her limit as Riddle somehow wrenched himself away from her grasp and leaned against the stone wall with one hand.

"...Come on now, we are almost there. Just a little bit more. Then we can have some proper fun." She was saying to him, in that annoying voice of hers. She reached for him again and was about to go back to dragging him, no doubt, when he stepped in.

"Get your filthy hands off him." Harry said in a low voice, surprising even himself by the coldness of his tone.

"Wha-...Evans? What do you want?" She sneered at him pretentiously.

"I said get the hell away from him." He took several more steps in her direction, cornering her as she held her ground glaring at him.

"Do I have to repeat myself for your inbred, dim-witted brain to catch up to what I am saying? Tell me, Parkinson, is this what you do every time you want some unfortunate soul to sleep with you, hmm? Do you drug them too and take advantage of them like you tried with Riddle here? Is that what it takes for you to get laid? Speaking of Riddle, how do you think he will react, when he finds out what you tried to do? What if he _remembers_? And if not, what if somebody reminds him?" He ended in vicious amusement.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he was frowning at his own words, but as a Slytherin, this was the way he was expected to act and talk now, if he wanted to survive in the House of Snakes. Any weakness or hesitancy would be used against him, he had learned that lesson from the start. And besides that, the knowledge of what she was about to do to Riddle really bothered him, along with his own strange reaction to it.

Parkinson's face drained of all colour with his ending question, as if she hadn't thought that far, and the look of pure panic entered her eyes.

"I-Please don't tell him-..."

"I see you are aware of the severity of your situation. Get out of my sight, and go pray to any deity you believe in that Riddle doesn't remember."

She went then, on shaky legs towards the girl's dorm, and Harry was left alone with the Dark Menace, who was currently quite incapacitated. He was still leaning against the wall and had, in the meanwhile, started to sway dangerously. Harry was at loss of what to do for a moment, for he really did, _kinda_ , hate Riddle and didn't fancy touching him to help him to a bed.

Now that he thought about it, Riddle had his own living space as a Head Boy, so he would have to put him to somebody else's bed for tonight, since he was _not_ going to help Riddle to his own quarters halfway across the dungeon.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably, now that his sense of bravado and justice had left him.

"Eh, well… can you get to a bed yourself or-" Harry didn't get to finish that sentence, because Riddle then decided it was time to throw up. What startled Harry more than seeing the future Lord Voldemort throwing his guts up was the fact that the vomit was black. He knew that this was most definitely not a good sign and remembered reading something in his potions textbook about certain poisons having this exact effect. Riddle then fell to his hands and knees, missing the puddle he just made by an inch.

Harry was on the move then. Before he even gave himself time to process, he had vanished the vomit, picked Riddle up and dashed up the stairs to the dorm.

In the dorm, he put Riddle onto his own bed and dived into his trunk. He had made a special little compartment for a few things a paranoid person living in Slytherin should own. He finally found his bezoar and went to Riddle's side, forcing it down his throat with a convenient little spell. He then cast a few other spells and fished out a few antidotes just in case. He was glad he had decided to study about poisons and antidotes more thoroughly, after the incident with Ron in Slughorn's quarters. He had felt so helpless then, wishing with all his might that a bezoar would help with that type of poison.

Now, however, he was positive that he had saved Riddle's life and that he would recover from it eventually. Even though he still didn't exactly know what that thing was that Parkinson had spiked him with, watching the familiar symptoms slowly take a hold of Riddle, he knew he would be okay.

…

He had just saved Tom Riddle's life.

Willingly.

He sat shock still on Riddle's bedside, as his situation slowly caught up with him.

When he had travelled back in time after Dumbledore's death, to gather knowledge about Lord Voldemort's past and possible horcruxes, he didn't expect to one day be the one to save Riddle, in any time period.

A light groan brought him out of his musings and he glanced down at the boy on his bed. Riddle's temperature was increasing rapidly and a sheen of perspiration could be seen forming on his face and neck.

Harry knew that he should take off the thick layers of clothes that Riddle had on his body to help cool him down, so he gingerly started to pull the robe from his shoulders. He clasped the back of Riddles neck and carefully lifted him, to get the robe out from underneath him, cringing all the while. Then, remembering the existence of magic with an exasperated eye-roll, he cast a quick levitation charm and the robe was completely off his current 'patient'. Harry sighed deeply, looking as though he had just finished a marathon.

When he looked back to Riddle's form, he noticed that the fever must have risen even more than normal, for a slight hue of red had developed on his pale cheeks and the white blouse of his uniform was now almost see-through from his clammy skin. Harry groaned to himself, already regretting saving Riddle, for now he knew that he couldn't just leave him like that.

With a resigned sigh and a stern inner monologue to himself about not getting in the middle of things that don't concern him, he went back to Riddle's side. If he was going to do this at all then why not just go all out? He started with taking off his shoes and socks, and cast a few cooling charms on the sheets and blanket. He then moved to the forbidden area of Riddle's torso and started to unbutton the soaking blouse, all the while chanting the top 50 situations that had taken place during his Hogwarts schooling in which he really shouldn't have gotten involved in.

"...Evans?" that one drowsy word almost gave him cardiac arrest.

At that point Harry had gotten about half of the buttons open. He imagined that being hunched down over his barely conscious form, striping him naked, painted an interesting picture for Riddle.

They had been at each other's throats since Harry had arrived here for the seventh year. Harry wanted as little as possible to do with Riddle and just be a distant observer, but Riddle had gotten it inside his head that Harry was an interesting pastime, and had done everything to poke and prod Harry into giving him as much information about himself as possible. And so, they kept stepping on each other's toes, pushing the other to the limit as well as, in some unfortunate instances, beyond, and, in Harry's case, dodging Riddles attempts of converting him to his side as a loyal follower.

The situation must have finally caught up with Riddle for he suddenly started to push him away while one of his hands went for his currently absent wand. Harry was glad he had thought to take it away from him when he started to strip him. Riddle shot him a scorching glare when he discovered the absence of his wand and Harry secretly had to admit that even in this state he could make lesser men piss themselves from fright.

"You don't have to worry, I'm not going to ravish you." Harry said with a roll of his eyes. When Riddle made no move to relax again, despite being on the edge of unconsciousness, he sighed and tried to calm the not so battle ready Dark-Lord-wannabe down. He put his hand on Riddle's shoulder, guiding him back down to the bed gently, while speaking soothingly.

"It's okay, you are safe, go back to sleep. I'm going to take care of you." He didn't know why those words came out like that, as he was thinking along the lines of 'just pass out already and I'll make sure you won't kick the bucket', but amazingly, it seemed to work, for Riddle didn't resist as he pressed him back to the pillow. Or maybe he was just closer to the edge of unconsciousness than he thought. Either way, he closed his eyes and didn't protest.

Harry then finished the buttons and wrestled him out of the shirt. Then came the pants and Harry, trying to get it over with as quickly as possible, levitated the unconscious boy and slipped them off, thankfully, with ease.

Riddles breathing had become quick and uneven and he was tossing his head from side to side. Harry knew the fever had to break by itself and no potions should be given, for the poison still running through his veins could have a negative reaction.

Resigned to his fate, he conjured a small basin with a washcloth and filled it with cool water. Wringing the cloth, he quickly went over Riddles neck and chest with it. After that, he rinsed it off again and placed it on his forehead with a quick cooling charm. Pleased with his work, but definitely not with himself, he was about to get up and find a place to sleep when Riddle's hand shot out and grabbed a hold of his arm.

"S-Stay..."

…

…

… _What?!_

Riddle's eyes were half open, but even so Harry could clearly see the emotions running through them. One in particular, which was the most profound as well, caught him off guard. Fear. Riddle was afraid. He must have thought he was literally dying.

He really must have been in a hole right now, to be acting this way. Completely delirious. Why else would he ever utter that word to _him._

His surprisingly strong grip was slackening on his arm, as his strength was leaving him again, but his eyes remained desperate, even as they started to flutter shut.

On instinct, Harry grabbed a hold of Riddles slackening hand, trying to calm him down one last time.

"You will be okay. I promise," he said. Riddle's eyes seemed to truly focus for the first time right then, since being poisoned, as he looked straight into emerald eyes. The fear was gone, but there was something else that Harry never managed to identify, for Riddle's eyes closed then, his body going lax.

Damn his saving people thing.

Well, Harry thought miserably, he couldn't possibly fall any deeper. And he was tired. So tired from the events of the night that he just wanted to bury his face in a pillow and never wake again. He didn't fancy climbing into someone else's bed himself. Plus, he reasoned to himself, if Riddle's condition should worsen, then he would know and manage to wake up on spot. So, without giving it much further thought, he shed his outer robe and shoes and climbed onto the bed next to Riddle. He was glad that the bed sizes were more that comfortable for one person, so two could manage to sleep shoulder to shoulder in it just fine as well.

With that thought, his eyes slid shut, unconsciousness claiming him in seconds.

~To be continued~

 _ **And there we go. A story I started ages ago, finally finding it's way here. Did you like it? Hate it? Whatever you thought, good or bad, please let me know. Your reviews mean so much to me.**_

 _ **A thousand blessings to my beta MayzeMerlo, without you this wouldn't have been English.**_

 _ **E.S~**_


	2. Chapter 2

He didn't open his eyes when he woke up. Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, a small smile crept on his lips.

Babies don't sleep this well.

He snuggled closer to the warmth in front of him contently... A warmth… that was moving. He furrowed his eyebrows and cracked his eyes open. What he saw made his blood run cold as memories from last night flooded his mind. During the night, he had somehow managed to wrap himself around Riddle's form so completely that he was afraid to move an inch, in fear of waking the blessedly still sleeping future Dark Lord in his arms.

Trying to control his panic, he carefully started to assess the situation. Their legs were tangled together in the sheets, his left arm was _underneath_ Riddle's head, and his right arm was draped around Riddle's naked chest. Harry's nose had just been buried against Riddle's neck and Riddle's cheek against Harry's forehead, before he had pulled his head away in panic. Harry thanked his luck a million times that the movement hadn't woken Riddle.

What followed was fifteen minutes of Harry trying to get himself out of another would be disaster, extracting his limbs with surgical precision and trying to not wake Riddle, his heart pumping like a raging Hippogriff all the while. When he finally got himself up from the bed he quickly went to take a shower and then dressed himself, picking up his wand from where he had left it next to his shoes beside the bed. Harry seriously considered hexing himself for the last one. Who in their right mind would go to sleep next to a possibly volatile psychopath without their wand in immediate vicinity? Harry Potter, that's who.

He cast a quick _Tempus_ , thanking Merlin it was Sunday. It was ten past nine. Everybody was probably still asleep. In their dorm, he only saw Dolohov sleeping alone in Malfoy's bed and Nott sleeping in his own, with a plant clutched in his arms. The others were missing, probably sleeping somewhere else.

At least he hoped they had been sleeping somewhere else, because with a sudden jolt he realized that he hadn't drawn the drapes around his bed last night. So, Dolohov and Nott might have seen them wrapped in each other's arms when they came in. Harry dearly hoped they had been too drunk to notice. With full panic mode, he looked at the other's beds. Seeing them perfectly made, he took a deep breath to calm his pounding heart down. The other beds hadn't been slept in. Great. The fewer possible witnesses the better.

He then went to go check on Riddle for the last time, approaching him like one might the gates of Hell. Seeing as he was once again his normal colour, breathing evenly and wasn't coated in perspiration he let out a relieved breath, but decided to cast a few diagnostic charms just in case. He was fine.

Good, time to get the hell out.

* * *

It was dinner time. Harry was sitting near the end of the Slytherin table, chatting with a sixth year he had never bothered to notice before. Usually he kept to himself as much as possible, but tonight he needed the distraction. He hadn't gone back to the Common room for the whole day, instead spending it in the kitchens, library, and the Room of Requirement. He wasn't hiding, no, but if Slytherin thought him to be anything, it was wary. And knowing Riddle, he definitely had a reason to be wary.

Tom hadn't shown his face outside Slytherin for the whole day so he would probably be coming to dinner now. And Harry decided it was best to gauge his reaction to waking up in Harry Evans' bed here in the semi-safe environment of the Great Hall. He didn't know whether it would be worse if Riddle remembered how he got in there or not.

Suddenly, with growing numbness, he thought he should have just moved Riddle to somebody else's bed in the morning, before he had woken up. He cut that line of though short, in fear that he might start bashing his head against the table.

Finally, from the corner of his eye, he noticed Riddle entering the Hall with his usual batch of bootlickers. Harry kept his attention directed at his meal, wand ready beneath the table, as Riddle walked past him. He didn't know if it was deliberate or not, but when Riddle passed the spot he was sitting, he could feel the end of his robe brushing against his back, which brought involuntary shivers up his spine.

In about five minutes he deemed it safe to catch a glimpse of Riddle, so he casually raised his eyes and left them drift past everybody, from where he sat to the teen. At first his eyes were drawn to the 'Knights', who all looked worse for wear. The look in Malfoy's eyes could only be described as silent horror, and Harry suppressed a smirk. Then his eyes located Riddle, only to find the dark blue eyes already locked onto his. Or, which used to be dark blue, but now looked purple because of the red bleeding into the irises.

What chilled Harry the most however, was the complete impassiveness he found in his face. Not that he expected to find an emotional rollercoaster there, but the stone-faced blankness was nonetheless unsettling. He tore his gaze away from Riddle's and stood up, dinner forgotten. The way out of the Great Hall seemed to be stretching on forever and the feeling of a hundred pairs of eyes on him never left him, even when he reached the corridor.

Knowing it was only one pair of eyes didn't give him any relief.

* * *

The corridors were quiet as he walked his way down to the dungeons. He was trying to sort his mind on what he was supposed to do. Tell Riddle the truth? Lie? Modify the story? Jump off the Astronomy Tower?

Just when he was about to reach the Common room he felt a bruising grip on his arm and then he was flung inside of an abandoned classroom, a dozen feet from the entrance. He was glad he managed to hold his balance at the rough handling and didn't fall face first down on the cold, stone floor. He turned around with his wand in hand, readying himself for any approach Riddle might take, when he was momentarily stupefied.

It wasn't Riddle who had pulled him inside this seemingly unused room.

"Lestrange?" Harry asked with a rough voice. He composed himself a second later, shooting the other boy with an unimpressed look.

"Disappointed? Were you expecting someone else?" Lestrange asked with a mocking voice.

"What do you want, Lestrange? I have better things to be doing than to play games with you," it came out harsh, but in reality, Harry was getting more and more concerned about where this was going. He hadn't seen Lestrange at dinner as well. He fingered his wand subtly.

"Oh, by all means, I would never even dream of wasting your precious time. No, you will see that what I want will be quite quick and easy for you to follow. See, it all started early this morning, when I found myself sleeping on a couch." His tone was conversational, and he started to pace leisurely around the room. "Now, couches are not good for my back, so I decided to move to the dorm and sleep the rest of my hangover away in silk sheets. Imagine my surprise, however, when upon entering, I saw a naked Tom Riddle sleeping in the arms of Harry Evans, on the latter's bed. I, the poor soul, couldn't help but think that my Lord had been drugged for your little nefarious desires."

Harry bristled at the 'naked' comment and was about to correct the boy, when the other went on casually.

"But, being the self-preservative Slytherin that I am, I didn't want to recklessly run into conclusions that might be wrong. So, I let you two be and decided to do a little investigation instead. It was just my luck that Parkinson happened to be sitting in front of the fire that morning, white-faced and jumpy, throwing glances at the boys' dorms after every few seconds. Being the gentleman that I am, I asked her what was bothering her and, at the same time, got a little glance inside her head, accidentally, of course.

"What I saw there, surprised me greatly, but at the same time disappointed me as well. Imagine how precious it would have been – the boy that holds my Lord's undivided attention for longer than anybody has ever managed to before, the boy who seems to be the only one my Lord is lenient towards-" he chuckled then, bitterly, seeing the other boy's sceptical expression. "Yes, believe it or not, my Lord is, for some reason, different with you. Do you think he would ever let anybody else get away with showing such blatant disrespect towards himself as you do? Naive little boy. You seem to have no idea who Tom Marvolo Riddle is and what he's capable of. Anyway, as I was saying, the only boy who he has ever treated as anything close to his equal, ends up taking advantage of him in the most disgusting way.

"And now it turns out that Parkinson is the scoundrel instead. Quite anticlimactic, don't you think? So, I decided to meddle a bit. A little _Obliviate_ took care of Parkinson's troubled mind and when you left the Common room in haste I went to check on Riddle. You truly did a very good job with him, I must compliment. Healthy as ever. I removed the antidotes from your nightstand and cleaned up any other unwanted evidence of your care. So, when the time was right I finally woke Riddle concernedly and when he asked me if I knew what happened, I, of course, told him everything I knew," here, he sent a Harry a look of mock innocence.

"I must say, I haven't seen him this angry in-... ever," he finished with a wicked smirk on his lips.

Harry stood completely still, the only movement in his entire body being his clenching teeth.

"I-... He won't believe it-" he started weakly, only to be interrupted by Lestrange's sudden laugh.

"Oh, but that is the most ingenious part, isn't it? He will not be able to look inside your head for we all remember how you both ended up in the hospital wing the last time he tried Legilimency on you. And he already skimmed my mind about the events and since I am brilliant with Occlumency, much more sufficient than my Lord would ever expect, he saw only what I wanted him to see," with that, the maliciousness slowly left his face, only to be replaced with a stone-cold look.

"How ironic it would be, to die at his hands after trying to save him, when he first came to you because he was trying to save you," he said softly. There was something inexplicable in his eyes then, like he is privy to a secret that nobody else knew. Harry was just about to demand what he meant by Riddle _saving_ him, when the other boy opened his mouth again

"Prepare to die, Wonder Boy, my Lord's leniency does have limits." With that he stripped the room of the privacy wards and left, leaving Harry to lean heavily against a cold, stone wall.

Well, fuck.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry warily entered the Common room twenty minutes later. The very air seemed different tonight. Like the green furniture and flickering candles knew that something was about to go down.

The room reeked of anticipation and apprehension.

Students, who hadn't yet retreated to their dorms, were talking quietly. Harry's eyes found Riddle sitting in his usual armchair next to the fire, with all of his followers seated around him, once again reading a book. Harry's eyes momentarily connect with Lestrange's and the deep satisfaction brimming there made him seethe. When he looked back at Riddle he saw him raising his head slowly. Rising, rising, until dark blue clashed with emerald. Again, blank.

As if feeling a shift in the air, everybody gradually stopped talking, their attention drawn to the Heir of Slytherin, whose magic was getting darker and more menacing with each second, and Harry Evans, the Enigma-of-the-Year, who was currently subjected to the other boy's undivided scrutiny.

Harry, meanwhile, took a moment to observe Riddle. Tonight, he was not that weak, drugged victim from yesterday's night anymore. The invisible, but tangible layer of power once again rested on his shoulders, his whole posture screaming for respect and radiating dominance. The boy who had uttered the weak 'stay' was gone.

"Everybody. Leave," the words were said softly, but every single person in the large room seemed to have heard them. Nobody questioned the order, as they started to file out of the room quickly. When everybody else was gone, Riddle's followers stood up as one and with the murmurs of 'My Lord' they were gone as well. The last person up the stairs, with a final glance and a little wave in his direction, was, once again, Lestrange. Harry tried to tell him with his eyes that, should he survive the confrontation with Riddle, he was going to take Lestrange down.

Riddle hadn't even blinked since fixing him with his stare, watching him like a crocodile would watch a baby zebra. Great.

He didn't know whether to be relieved that all the others left, or be more nervous about the fact that he was now alone with Riddle in the empty Common room.

'Stop it!' Harry scolded himself, 'You are not guilty, so stop acting like you are.' Surprisingly, that little pep-talk gave him enough courage to pull himself together under that cold stare and fix Riddle with a look of his own. After Lestrange had left him in the room, he had spent the twenty precious minutes coming up with a game plan. He knew that he had to be careful with what he was going to say.

He would try to get Riddle to remember last night, or even bits of it. For that, he would need to tell his own version of the night's happenings and use logic and persuasion. Ha. As if persuasion was ever going to work on Riddle, considering he was still even alive that long. _'A_ _h, but there are much worse things than death, my bo_ _y,_ ' Dumbledore's voice helpfully whispered in his head. Harry gulped.

"I see you are feeling better," he started and instantly knew that it had been the wrong thing to say, as he had to duck a spell soaring straight at him. He landed painfully on the ground and had to immediately roll again to get away from the path of yet another spell.

"Whoa, whoa, now _hold up_!" he had gotten back to his feet and was now holding his wand with a shield charm in front of him.

Riddle had gotten up from his seat and was approaching him with long, graceful steps, looking like an angel of death, with the way his eyes had turned purple again and his dark magic viciously crackling in the air around him.

For some weird reason that picture transfixed Harry's attention for a moment, his fingers going numb around his wand and the world slowing down. It was getting difficult to breathe for Riddle's overwhelming magic, which was gathering around him, was stifling him and making it all too impossible to think straight. Or maybe it was the fault of his own heart that was currently residing in his throat.

Glazed eyes watched as Riddle drew nearer. For some reason, the story of the _Little Red Riding Hood_ popped into his head right then. In that story, however, Harry was sure the little girl complimented the wolf about how _pretty_ his eyes were, instead of big. Now that he thought about it, his mouth as well. Yes, definitely. He was getting really dizzy.

When he finally managed to shake himself out of the daze with a forceful breath and a vicious mental slap, Riddle was already there. He didn't have time to cast any kind of spell for the wand was ripped from between his lax fingers, landing somewhere on the other side of the room.

In the span of a second, Riddle had rammed him against one of the near walls, the yew wand digging painfully into the side of his neck and his right arm pressed against his throat, making it almost impossible to breathe.

"Did you have fun last night?" Riddle's voice was sickly sweet and soft like velvet, yet contained such barely controlled fury, that Harry didn't think he imagined the quiver there. His face was a few inches from his own and he could feel Riddle's icy breath against his lips.

Error.

A sharp pain at the side of his neck, where Riddle's wand must have let out a few angry sparks, brought him back to the presence. Riddle's face was beginning to show signs of impatience and Harry suddenly realized that the other had asked him a question.

"Yeah...-I mean NO! Of course not! You think keeping you from dying was _enjoyable_ for me?" Harry felt his cheeks redden from his momentary verbal cock-up, but held the stormy gaze steadily.

Riddle stilled for a moment, his eyes going out of focus for just a second, as if trapped in a memory. Harry saw this and took his chance.

"Don't you remember? I saved your life _and_ your dignity yesterday, and in gratitude you try to kill me! Geez, I've learned my lesson to never help you out of a sticky situation ever again," Harry finished in snarky voice.

Riddle was quiet for a moment, just watching Harry closely, not lowering his wand or lessening the pressure on his throat. Then with deliberate slowness, and with more than a hint of threat in his voice, he said.

"Tell me everything that happened last night," and then continued softly "If you lie about anything, I will curse you with a spell that will decrease your norepinephrine levels, so that you spiral into a horrible depression, eventually become suicidal, and kill yourself. That way you go to your grave knowing that not only did _I_ kill you, but I made _you_ kill yourself."

Harry gaped at him silently for a few seconds, not knowing how to respond to that threat, since he was quite certain Riddle wasn't kidding. But still, he wasn't going to let that intimidate him.

"Okay, I'll tell you everything, but can we at least go sit down and have respectful distance between us? Because my throat is starting to burn," he said, trying to sound nonchalant while Riddle glared daggers at him.

Miraculously, Riddle let go of his throat, so now they were just standing there, so close to each other that their chests almost touched, and Riddle didn't look as though he was going to be the one to take the step away. Harry huffed and slid away from between the cold wall and even colder boy and headed towards the seats closest to the fireplace. He knew that Riddle was going to take his usual seat, so he dropped himself on the chair furthest from that, which happened to be the one directly facing Riddle's. Now, they had a solid six foot between them and a part of an Ebony wood table. When they were both seated and Harry had thrown a mandatory glare in Riddle's direction again, to which he responded with narrowing his eyes and twirling his wand, he started the story, clearing his still aching throat.

"I uh-... well, I don't really know how much you remember, so I'm going to start from the very beginning. It all kicked off at the party, I guess, where you got drugged by an unnamed individual that was _not_ me, as I have already conveyed to you. When you started to feel the effects, you tried to stand up, but then that person that so desperately wanted you in their bed, for some reason, came to assist you and show you the way. Being the honourable, moral, righteous, impartial, and all around altruistic person that I am, I came to your rescue."

Here he had to, once again, dodge what appeared to be a stinging hex, but decided not to comment when he saw the other boy's face, going on with the story quickly.

"When I got rid of the twit I turned to you, just in time for you to hurl, missing my shoes by an inch, by the way. Then, I carried you to the dorm, and gave you bezoar, because you had clearly been poisoned. You developed a high fever in the recovery process and I… took care of you," he finished unsurely, really not wanting to elaborate on that part. "And that's it! Nothing spectacular. A simple 'thank you' will be enough, no need to make a shrine in my name, I assure you," he continued, with mock-modesty, trying to distract the other boy from enquiring more about the story.

He expected the boy to scoff and shoot another curse in his direction, get angry and shoot a curse at him or sneer and snap something back, while shooting a curse at him. But Riddle sat still, as if he hadn't even heard the mocking comment, his eyes observing the messy haired boy in front of him. Harry, for his part, tried hard not to squirm under that gaze, which was taking him apart as quickly as putting him back together.

"I see," Riddle then started with mild voice "And why, pray tell, did you strip me of my clothes and decide to sleep with me?"

Harry couldn't stop his face from turning bright red and slackening from Riddle's choice of wording.

"I-I wo-I didn't _sleep with you_! I just slept _next_ to you!" Riddle's smug and mocking face made his indignation only rise, "Where else could I've slept? _You_ were the one sleeping in _my_ bed. I wasn't going to sleep in _Malfoy's_ bed or the _floor_ just so _you_ could enjoy my perfectly comfortable bed!" To be honest, he probably should have just slept on the floor on a conjured mattress or something.

"Ah, yes, maybe 'sleep with me' wasn't the most felicitous term," Riddle acknowledged apologetically, "Now, _cuddle_ would be far more fitting," he went on flippantly making Harry lose the remnants of his temper, face burning again.

"For fuck's sake the only reason I slept in that bed with you was because you bloody well _asked me to_!" As soon as it was out of his mouth he wished he could take it back, his face going from angry red to pale in seconds.

Riddle for his part, went completely still, his eyes darkening and his magic coiling around him in lethal sparks.

"…What did you say?" the voice was deadly quiet, all traces of amusement gone.

"I mean-" once again, Harry never got the chance to take the words back or explain himself, for Riddle was towering over him in a flash, having moved so fast he might as well have apparated, with his wand slashing down towards him.

On instinct, Harry grabbed Riddle's hand, manoeuvring it so that the bright yellow spell coming out of it hit the other couch, instead of his face, with a loud bang. The momentum of the sudden movement caught Tom unprepared. Instead of trying to pull his hand away as he would have done, and as he saw Harry expected him to do as well, he lost his balance. Harry, sure that Riddle would instinctively try to pull his left hand from Harry's grip, pulled at Riddle's hand again, foreseeing the move pulling him to his feet from the armchair.

Instead of pulling Harry up, the sudden move made Riddle lose his already teetering balance, which ended with Riddle falling ungracefully into Harry's unsuspecting lap.

For two whole seconds, everything stopped. Two pairs of shocked eyes staring into one another, two inches apart, with Riddle splayed on Harry's lap. Bracing his fall, Riddle's right hand had landed right next to Harry's face on the back of the armchair, wrist brushing against the messy locks of black hair, his left hand still in the other boy's strong grip. Harry's left hand had somehow ended up around Riddle's waist during the tumble.

For two whole seconds, everything stopped. At least Harry's heart and breathing. His nervous system, however, decided to start functioning thrice as hard. Every single part of his body that came into contact with Riddle was on _fire_. And it wasn't necessarily a bad feeling.

And then, with a jerk, the world started spinning again.

Riddle fisted the front of his robe and was about to pull them both up from the armchair, no doubt planning on torturing Harry to death, when one of Harry's legs moved quickly to curl around Riddle's so they once again ended up sprawled on top of each other, this time, however, on the rug covered floor.

Riddle let out a huff of air when his back collided with the hard surface with Harry on top of him, still trying to restrain Tom's hand holding the Yew wand. With narrowed eyes, he flipped them both over, so the green-eyed boy was now the one pinned down, and with a sharp tug, managed to get his hand free from the other boy's grasp.

" _Petrificus Totalus_ " Riddle snarled from between his teeth. The body beneath him went instantly rigid, but the green eyes still glared up at him in that infuriating way, which managed to amuse and irritate Tom to no end. He took in a big gulp of air, surprised that so little exertion could leave him so breathless. When he looked back down at the boy beneath him, he couldn't keep a mischievous spark from entering his eyes, which he managed to conceal swiftly.

He made himself more comfortable, sitting languidly on the petrified boy's hips and stomach, with his legs bent on either side of him, all the while conscious of the burning eyes following his every move.

"Now that I have you where I want you-" he couldn't contain a smirk as he saw Harry's glare intensify tenfold "-let's make a few things clear." With that he drew his wand and pointed it directly at Harry's face, watching in dark satisfaction as those emerald eyes widened in shock and unease, before muttering a quick spell. Now, he had the power to give Harry back the ability to speak under the _Petrificus Totalus_ when he wished, for as long as he wished. Quite a handy little spell.

"First of all, I want the name of the person who poisoned me. Before I let you speak, however, I will give you a fair warning, that should you deny me an answer, you will regret it," with that, he tapped into his magic, which connected him to the spell he had just cast, and gave Evans back the control over his mouth.

Evans made no move to open his mouth to answer, and the defiant look in his eyes told Tom clearly that he knew very well that he could. Tom had anticipated this, however, and, with a smirk, slowly pointed his wand at Harry's chest and cast nonverbally. Dark eyes watched keenly as the green ones glazed over and then flashed with pain, the chest underneath him starting to squirm and thrash, unable to take in oxygen because of the fluid slowly filling his lungs. When he finally opened his mouth, trying to reflexively breathe in and only managing to produce sounds of asphyxiation, he cancelled the curse.

"It seems you actually can open your mouth, what an awe-inspiring revelation. Now, where were we? Ah, _yesss_ , I recall, the name."

Harry gasped for air with minimal mobility, watching the boy above him with startled eyes. It had sounded as if Riddle had almost slipped into Parseltongue for a moment. It reminded him of Voldemort, with his sibilant hissing voice. But never had the sound of Voldemort's voice brought a shiver down his spine like it did in this moment.

Harry quickly considered his options. On one hand, telling on Parkinson would prove fruitless for Riddle in the end, since Parkinson no longer had any memory of the incident, but once Riddle started investigating the reason for the missing memories, Lestrange's involvement would come out, effectively clearing Harry's name with it. On the other hand,… yeah, the first-hand option was quite brilliant. Justice with a pinch on impending torture for Parkinson, revenge on Lestrange with who knows what consequences, and he would finally get Riddle off his back, or err... stomach.

"Parkinson," he finally said, concealing the smirk that threatened to take over his lips.

Tom's eyes narrowed in disbelief for a moment.

"Parkinson," Riddle's repeated after a few moments of silence, with an emotionless tone, but Harry could detect hints of disbelief and disgust in the boy's eyes.

Seeing this, Harry couldn't help himself.

"Hmm, yes, can't imagine what it must feel like, knowing somebody like _Parkinson_ has gotten one over you," If he could, Harry would have folded his arms behind his head at that moment and started whistling a merry tune from Bugs Bunny. As it was, his whole body, aside from his head, was immobile and his lungs still hurt from the last time he had decided to be bold, so he had to settle with a smirk and a mocking look sent in Riddle's way.

The prospect, Harry thought morbidly, of being suicidal like everybody complained he was, started to seem more probable as time went on. For some odd reason, it seemed to show up in the presence of one Tom Riddle more often than not.

Tom, despite being angered by his audacity, found himself astounded. The boy under him, who was at his complete and non-existent mercy, still dared to push him and show such blatant disrespect and cheek towards him. It wasn't as if Evans didn't know what he was capable of doing, what he was very much willing to do on a regular basis. It puzzled Tom and despite his absolute frustration with the boy, Tom liked puzzles. That was the reason he had tolerated so much from the boy for almost the whole school year. Every time he seemed to peel back one layer about the mystery that was Harry Evans, another one would show up and make Tom re-evaluate all his previous assessments about the boy. It was aggravating. Yet, it was also refreshing. Nobody had given him so much trouble to take apart, as the enigmatic newcomer that had arrived in his last year at Hogwarts.

Tom lazily pointed his wand in the direction of Evans' chest once more, yet the infuriating smirk was still on the other boy's lips, even as he saw the miniscule tightening of his jaw as he braced for the incoming pain.

Instead of firing off a curse to wipe the offending smirk from the boy's face Tom found himself transfixed by the green eyes staring up at him defiantly and challengingly. Evans' eyes had always been noteworthy for him, at first for their unusual colour and then, after the first time their gazes locked, for what resided within them. He could tell with a glance that the boy had seen more than his fair share of suffering in his life, but beside the pain there was the almighty fire that scorched everybody who got too close, that spoke of strength, intelligence, wisdom and power. And Tom had always been attracted to power.

Right then and there he wanted nothing more than to enter the boy's head and see for himself what was going on in there. He wanted to pick his mind apart, piece by piece, until nothing remained elusive to him about Harry Evans. He wanted to _own_ Evans like he owned everybody else noteworthy and reachable in the school. But he couldn't risk it, the last time he had tried was still a very fresh and unpleasant memory in his mind.

Tom watched the green eyes slowly blink up at him, when he failed to make his move, the smirk slowly sliding off his face and dark brows furrowing in consternation.

After a while, Tom decided to end their little staring match.

"If I didn't know any better, I would label you an idiotic Gryffindor. How you've managed to survive in the House of Snakes for this long is a true wonder. So, Wonder Boy, if what you told me is in fact true, then why did you decide to… assist me yesterday?"

Riddle's casual tone of voice made Harry furrow his brows even more. Once again the boy managed to surprise him with his reaction. He had expected to at least get a dose of the earlier curse (not that he was a masochist, but it was just so much _fun_ to ruffle the other boy's feathers, then again maybe that spoke for itself), so the calm and unaffected tone left him quite surprised.

That aside, the subject change was definitely unpleasant, but as he sourly guessed, he was partially at fault for that for his unasked cheek. As if he actually knew the answer himself. But since Riddle was expecting one then who was he to deny him.

"Well, you did look exceptionally pathetic, what with not being able to even _walk_ on your own. Besides that, _nobody_ , not even somebody as rotten as _you_ , deserves to be molested by Parkinson. And as I already told you, I am an honourable person, and could not let such a thing happen on my watch."

Harry watched keenly as Riddle struggled with the urge to hex him, eyes flashing and teeth gritting, the wand on his chest increasing its pressure.

Then with an audible exhale, Tom breathed out, a smirk twisting his lips. "It's admirable how persistent you are at pushing my buttons," with that he stood up from his position on Harry's stomach and straightened his robes. Without another glance at the boy still petrified on the ground he started heading towards the entrance, no doubt planning on heading to his quarters.

Harry, meanwhile watched him leave with a growing incredulity.

"Hey! What do you think you are doing?-! Lift the spell you jerk!" He couldn't believe Riddle was going to leave him on the floor of the common room for the night. After the earlier spectacle, nobody would dare to come down again. And even if they did, they wouldn't finite it since they knew that it was Riddle's handiwork. Damn!

Riddle didn't look in his direction nor stop his gait when answering him.

"The spell will wear off in a couple of hours, may I advise you to use the time to contemplate and reflect on your attitude. I will, in the meantime, check the credibility of your story. Tomorrow we will know," the last part was said so quietly that Harry didn't think it was meant for him.

Before Harry could get another word out Riddle was gone, leaving Harry to contemplate and reflect on the absurdity that was his life on the rug covered floor in the Slytherin common room.

* * *

 ** _So, what do you guys think? What's the deal with Lestrange? Could there be something more to him than meets the eye? What did you think about the way Riddle handled Harry? And Harry himself? Is he too sure of himself when it comes to Riddle? Let me know your thoughts!_  
 _Thank you again, MayzeMerlo, my wonderful beta, for putting up with me._  
 _E.S~_  
**


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